This One Time
by Third Song
Summary: This is probably an ideas file or something. The idea seems popular and I don't have the stamina for larger fare. Also, in the first one, Hogwarts falls over.
1. This One Time

I don't really know how to start this, so I just will. Also, I don't own the Harry Potter series.

* * *

><p>"There was this one time that the castle fell over.<p>

No one had expected it. There was no prelude, no warning, nothing, not a single thing, in advance except for the creaking and the grinding of the stones right before the castle slid off.

Tipped over.

Needless to say, this was terrible for everyone involved. A great deal of confusion.

Yes, a great deal. Or, perhaps not.

You see, the castle had been abandoned for quite some time at this point. No one had been there for a long time. Dust had settled over all and everything. All that once gleamed had long ago succumbed to rust and the wood had become rotted then cinders, as one after another the torches fell from their enchanted heights. Even the Black Lake was uninhabited, the only thing passing through it waters in living memory being the stones of the castle as it began its slow descent.

Everything that had at one time been holding the castle together, magic in particular, had long ago faded. All that had held down the castle for the longest time had been gravity. The same force which slowly, inexorably, drew the castle ever further into the lake.

It was mournful, a somber occasion. The ancient monolith older than old and an austere example of the power and celebration once wrought upon the living stone so long ago, lifted off of its foundations. It journeyed so tragically, down, down, deep beneath the voided waters, to crumble in obsolescence, in a place no living eyes had ever seen.

Of course, the castle had been built with longevity in mind. Even time would not have so completely ruined the thing in all but an instant. Pushing the depths of the castle up from below, was a tail.

It was a large tail, of something that had never stopped growing, and still again might never stop. The basilisk, as old as the stones it upended, was finally free. After so long, so unimaginably, so excruciatingly, so _painfully_ long, the creature had grown large enough, through some sorcery or another, that its sheer girth was enough to push the castle above up, and over, and down.

So very far down.

A lament, a celebration, a tragedy. After all, what will happen whence the snake reaches the outside world? Maybe nothing does. After all, there might not even be anyone anywhere anymore. This is wrong though. Why is there a snake? Why is there nothing else?

Snake and stone and lake and sky,

and mountains which eternal lie,

shouldn't someone have killed the damn thing a long time ago?"

Everyone was staring at Ron.

"Ron, when I said that I felt guilty about killing a creature as old as Hogwarts, this is not what I expected as a reply. At all."


	2. Plastic Surgery

I don't own Harry Potter. Why did I write this?

"This onetime, his face fell off." said this one guy to another. Let's go ahead and assume they were in some sort of tavern setting.

"What's the story behind that?" said some other guy. Let's assume he was also at the tavern. Let's even go so far as to say that he was saying this in response to the first man.

"So, okay, you've got to understand, this was back during the whole plastic surgery fad everyone was going through. He uh, wanted to be a trend setter. At the very least, he can say he ended one. I mean, you know, what I mean is that since the whole tale was so graphically publicized, the fashion industry went to other things. So uh, did you not know about this?"

"No, I was out of the country. Come on man, after the war, all I wanted was to leave the country. I was most certainly not the only one who did this. Come on you _knew_ this man."

"Well, I mean, I knew you were gone but, well, it's just stuff that I know, I don't catalogue how I learned it or how reliable the source was, I just heard it so I know it. I mean, that's not exactly what I mean what I mean is that, well, I didn't really put a whole lot of thought before I said that, I mean, I think before I speak but to think about the story, it's origin, the fad's origin, your vacation, the timeline's of both, comparing them and seeing what fit and what didn't, well, that would take too long, the flow of the conversation would have shifted by then. I had a small window of opportunity within which to tell my story, and I took it."

"The hell? That is far too many words to describe that thing that... come on."

"I was just thinking, uh, do you even know the origin of the whole thing?"  
>"Why in the hell would I? I have spent the past couple of years in and out of the majority of the better type of whorehouses in this wonderful world, purposefully all non-whore related news. "<p>

"Oh, well, yeah get this: Harry Potter started it."

"Why didn't you tell me this story first? This sounds way more interesting!"

"Well, as the story goes, he's hated that scar his whole life. Uh, you know the one I mean, right?"

"The lightning bolt. Hmm, it rings a bell. Then again, I only went to school with him for seven years, my memory might be a bit hazy."  
>"Oh, uh, yeah... well apparently he didn't get it rid of for such a long time 'cause it was resistant to magic 'cause you know... Voldemort."<p>

"You are sounding stupider and more ridiculous every time I hear you. Look, just keep going."  
>"... "<p>

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. It's just, the last half decade of my life was filled with whores and all their wonderful variants. You bitching about fashion or whatever just really doesn't compare."

As what I hope is our final such assumption, let's assume that five years of prostitution from the John side does have perhaps what may be described as a 'negative' effect on the affected person's social skills.

One hour more and one friend less later, our nameless, whore mongering, protagonist was on his way to a different location. He was very put out that he did not know how Harry Potter had caused plastic surgery to blossom in popularity. He built this dream scenario in his head:

At first, Harry had simply been wanting to get rid of his scar. After finally realizing he could just have the damn thing cut off, with the skin it covered being replaced, he did so. Perhaps that is where it could have ended, if he had just chosen a competent physician. Not knowing a lot about the whole thing, he skimped on the price, and it showed. Having learned his lesson, he went several times to a more competent surgeon, who was able to fix the damage nicely. However, during one of his operations, his chart was switched with another patient having surgery the same day. As a result, Harry Potter now had a cleft chin.

He almost immediately tried to have the surgery undone. However, upon takin a good hard look at himself in the mirror, he noticed that he actually liked how it looked. At this point his wife Ginny-

He stopped here for a moment to wonder if Harry and Ginny were married, or even still together. Ah well, unimportant.

-said something along the lines of 'I like it.' The surgeon, who was a canny salesman, took this opportunity to tell Harry that since it was a mistake, the chin was free. Also, as a personal apology, he would throw in another surgery free. He had seen the look in Harry's eyes, and knew what it meant.

From then on, Harry was a frequent customer, his face warping more and more, although never to the point of disgust, as he still drew a large amount of influence in the society, not considering his own power, and the surgeon knew he could not afford to make an enemy of him.

At this point, the various medias would have caught on, and many people would have started copying the famous young war hero.

Or, perhaps, he had a friend who decided to go into the industry, and in the spirit of such loyalty as he very well may have been known for, he used his power and influence to make plastic surgery fashionable, so as to help his friend.

When he told all this to the barkeep, he replied:

"No, what happened was that Harry, in a fit of spitefulness and under the influence of no small amount of alcohol, sent a letter to The Daily Prophet saying that he would break the nose of everyone who had called him a liar right before the war. When the dumb bastards decided to print it, he realized that if he didn't break some noses, he would be a liar, and a publicly ridiculed one. Let's just say that he's an honest man, a character trait which landed him with an 18-month house arrest and some very important people generating some income for the plastic surgery industry. It snowballed from there."


End file.
